Hungry Eyes

There isn't much to salivate over at the Men's Club.

As we sat at a table waiting for our food at The Men's Club of Houston, my friend Glenn told me a story about a trip to a Houston BYOB strip club and a dancer named Dimension X, who "flapped her pussy" in his face while giving him a lap dance. That gruesome image was instantly seared into my head.

So I was happy when our Roman Orgy appetizer plate appeared, and I had an excuse to think about something else. But, good God, what a miserable trade-off in imagery it was. One fried shrimp. One stuffed jalapeño. One chicken tender cut into three bites that you'd feed to a toddler. An unidentifiable lump of meat in one corner. And "seasonal fruit" scattered across leaves of lettuce that was actually mealy watermelon and nearly colorless honeydew. Watermelon is not in season. Neither is honeydew.

"This tastes like sawdust," Glenn said of the watermelon before spitting it out.

"I can't even tell what this is," I responded, poking at the mysterious meat lump. He picked up a strip of it.

"I think it's a battered jalapeño," he said, squinting at it. It's so dark inside the dining room at the Men's Club that it's impossible to read the wine list, let alone see your food, without pulling out your cell phone. The scantily clad but always sweetly helpful waitresses usually oblige with their own.

The meat turned out to be beef fajita strips, cold and nearly congealed. Glenn and I split the shrimp in half, and I ate the stuffed jalapeño. They were the only edible items on the plate. "This doesn't feel like an orgy," he cracked. "Certainly not a Roman one." And it certainly wasn't worth $17.

In an age when you can see more at home with an Internet connection thanks to City of Houston laws mandating how much of a stripper's areolae need to be covered, are strip clubs and their mostly overpriced offerings becoming obsolete?

That seemed to be the case on a quiet Tuesday night at The Men's Club, where beautiful girls halfheartedly "danced" more or less fully clothed on a runway for a few bored-looking men who were more interested in tie-loosening and Jack-sipping than anything else. They sat in cushioned wingback chairs amidst dim lighting and Toulouse-Lautrec prints on the walls, a cigar case squatting near the entrance and men in suits walking the floor to check on their customers. Sex seemed to be the last thing that was selling here. Is this the modern version of a gentleman's club?

If so, shouldn't it have better food?

I was shocked to find out that the Men's Club employs an actual chef, Dwight Stewart, who — by at least one account — is a pretty regular guy. Chef Jason Kerr, an occasional contributor at the Houston Press, interviewed Stewart last week independent of my review. It was a fairly standard interview, as our online Chef Chat series go. Stewart told Kerr he doesn't date the dancers, he actually works the line and he stays pretty low-key, rarely leaving the kitchen.

This, combined with a cursory glance at what looked like a pretty decent menu online, led me to the Men's Club in the first place. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly impressed with Stewart's work.

On that initial Tuesday night, I was perhaps already in an uncharitable mood after paying $8.50 for a Jack and Coke that was mostly Coke, then another $8.50 for a shot of Jack that I bet went like this: Take a shot glass, put an ice cube in it, pour a little Jack Daniel's on the top, let it all melt, serve. Across the table, Glenn merely chuckled at me, a cold bottle of Budweiser in his hand. "You're doing it wrong, Shilcutt. They can't water down beer."

There are apparently many rules like this that I'm unfamiliar with, that Tuesday being my first visit ever to any strip club, anywhere, despite a nearly irrefutable rule that any Baylor grad had to catch a show at Sonny's BYOB by its legendary (and most likely fictitious) one-legged stripper. I almost wore it as a point of pride that I'd made it 30 years without setting foot in a strip club. But the hotel lobby-vibe at the Men's Club was only vaguely tinged with sleaze, certainly no more so than any regular club of the non-breast-baring variety.

By the time our entrées arrived, we had become uninterested in the girls onstage. There is no pole at the Men's Club, no mirrors, just a runway that leads halfway into the dining room on which the nearly identical-looking girls gyrate endlessly. At one point, I'd caustically remarked that one of them had "mom hair," to which Glenn replied, "Those are actual people up there, Katharine." He was being sarcastic, but it shamed me into silence for the rest of the meal. We talked about other things instead, or rather yelled into each other's face over the ear-numbing sounds of Flyleaf and Lit and other bands I'd thought faded into obscurity with the 1990s.

My lavender-crusted ahi tuna salad was the better of the two entrées, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it contained actual lavender and actual ahi tuna. Several pieces were draped over a mound of field greens that had been coated lugubriously with a peanut dressing that reminded me of a Chili's airport salad. Great? No. Inoffensive? Yes. And inoffensively priced at only $10.

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Would have preferred a simple review of the place and its food ,as opposed to the unnecessary information about your dinner. People read for reviews, not to find out how your dinner went or your incompetence to understand adult entertainment.

I've gone a *cough* few times to the Men's Club, but then I always go during happy hour, when the (finger/fried) food is free, there's no cover, and the drinks are a whopping $1.50. I always wondered if the off-the-menu stuff was comparable to the pics...

Wait, doesn't mens club advertise in your newspaper? And for like the last decade? I'm looking at it right now and cannot believe they haven't pulled the plug on you guys. With friends/partners like Houston Press, who needs enemies.

i like the cheese plate and the urban ranch melt! anyway i think the point of the high prices is "if u wont pay this much for food and/or drink, then u probably wont pay $20 for a dance". so if i see people appalled by the prices of "decent" food (i like pretty much all the food, and have tried the whole menu), then i already know they wont be interested in me. yes i am an entertainer there.

So I had to check out the place after this review. Mainly because its 3 blocks from my office and I wanted to see what average Merlot would be selling for $1000+ dollars! Turns out the "average merlot" wine "Amuse Bouche" is a highly allocated California cult merlot produced by Heidi Barrett who also makes wine for Screaming Eagle that costs $3900 at Del Friscos down the street. oops! I guess we didnt do our homework before writing this article. Also noticed 3 years worth of Awards of Excellence from the Wine Spectator Magazine proudly posted in the lobby. Thought I would try the food since I was already there and had the pork chops. I'm no food critic but thought they were great!

There is always an excuse (reason) does not mean it's a good excuse. There are 52 weeks in a year means if you work every week we get 52 reviews. In a city with...I don't know how many restaurants, taco trucks, holes in the wall, festivals, sports stadiums, street events and the places just outside the city you still wasted one week. Lazy.

the press has fallen to a new low...why are you wasting time and paying some one to write a food review based upon the food at the Men's club. Pathetic and an absolute shame when one considers the many great dining options in Houston.

This article fails to mention that Monday β Friday TMC has no cover before 9 and $2 beers or house cocktails from 4 pm β 9 pm. Amateur article for not covering that point alone. The food is on par with a pub and should not be expected to be better, after all it is a strip club.

Nailed it. I've always wondered why topless clubs so earnestly advertise their food at all. Is anyone going there to eat and revel in the cooking that is on par with most sports bars and pubs? If so, I've never met that person. Glenn has a better perspective: the women, da girlz. Maybe one can leverage the bad food inside the club, and get the girls to head out for a decent bite. That's been my strategy, and the results have been delicious.

I drive to work past The Men's Club every day and I've been cracking up AND curious since December when they put a truck in the parking lot advertising "super fine dining". I have not been to a strip club but I was actually pretty interested to know what kind of food they have there. I've never seen the appeal of strip clubs as I can just put on some White Snake, take off my shirt, and party "La Porte style" by myself for free as opposed to paying a cover so I thought I'd be in the dark forever. Thanks for taking one for the team, girl!

I've only had one experience with a meal at a strip club. This involved a former boss, me saving him about $500 on a set of memory chips for a Sun workstation, and a couple of steaks down at Heartbreakers in Dickenson. There are only three things I remember - the steak was pretty decent, and there was a very friendly Hispanic dancer who spent a fair amount of time at our table.

I'm reminded of my husband watching TV while eating. 3 or 4 bites in, glazed eyes fixed on the plasma, I ask if he likes it at which point he finally looks at his plate, says yes, takes a bite and says yes again with more enthusiasm. You don't taste what you don't notice.

The great thing about "people" is that we're all different. Each has a different opinion about what is "unnecessary" information in a review... each reads a review for a different reason than many others... and strangely enough, many of us DO like to know how a reviewer's meal went. Also, some find it charming that Katharine isn't necessarily an expert on the subject of "adult entertainment". I might also point out that to many adults, entertainment doesn't HAVE to be in a titty bar. Possibly YOUR understanding of "adult entertainment", as well as what others might enjoy in a dining review are both a little narrow. Just a thought.

Interesting that you mentioned Heartbreakers. I've never been there, but when heading to Galveston, I always thought that the Christian church that bought the billboard next door with the message "We Heal the Broken Hearted" was worth photographing.

As far as the review of the Men's Club food is concerned, I don't go there, but many do. Not sure a bad review would make much difference to them, but Katharine is merely catering to the entire readership of the Press. I enjoyed the review.